Martin Luther King, Jr. Writes a List of 16 Suggestions for African-Americans Riding Newly-Integrated Buses (1956)

Montgomery Bus Integration Suggestions

Last Tues­day, Decem­ber 1st, marked the 60th anniver­sary of Rosa Parks’ refusal to relin­quish her seat at the front of a Mont­gomery, Alaba­ma bus, and as some peo­ple point­ed out, the sto­ry many of us were told as chil­dren about Parks’ act of civ­il dis­obe­di­ence was fab­ri­cat­ed. Parks was not a hum­ble, elder­ly seam­stress worn out from a long day of work, a myth author Her­bert Kohl sum­ma­rizes as “Rosa Parks the Tired.” She was a well-con­nect­ed activist and NAACP leader who had already ini­ti­at­ed actions to inte­grate local libraries. Of her gross­ly over­sim­pli­fied biog­ra­phy, Parks remarked in her mem­oirs, “I was not tired phys­i­cal­ly, or no more tired than I usu­al­ly was at the end of a work­ing day. I was not old, although some peo­ple have an image of me as being old then. I was forty-two. No, the only tired I was, was tired of giv­ing in.”

Nor was Parks the first to brave arrest for refus­ing to give up a seat at the front of the bus. That same year, 15-year-old Claudette Colvin refused to give in, and sev­en months lat­er, so did 18-year-old Mary Louise Smith. Nei­ther of their arrests, how­ev­er, had the pow­er to spark the Mont­gomery Bus Boy­cott, the action that brought nation­al atten­tion to the civ­il rights move­ment and to Mar­tin Luther King, Jr.’s lead­er­ship role. King would lat­er recall that “Mrs. Parks was ide­al for the role assigned to her by his­to­ry” because “her char­ac­ter was impec­ca­ble and her ded­i­ca­tion deep-root­ed.” King’s repeat­ed empha­sis on “char­ac­ter” through­out his direc­tion of the boy­cott and beyond often seems an awful lot like what is today dis­par­aged, with good rea­son, as “respectabil­i­ty pol­i­tics”—the notion that only those who con­form to con­ser­v­a­tive, mid­dle-class norms of dress and behav­ior deserve to be treat­ed with dig­ni­ty and to have their civ­il rights respect­ed.

But this was not nec­es­sar­i­ly his point. His embrace of non­vi­o­lent resis­tance was in part a strate­gic means of pre­sent­ing the Jim Crow pow­er struc­ture with an implaca­ble unit­ed front that could not be moved to react in ways that might seem to jus­ti­fy vio­lence in the eyes of a large­ly unsym­pa­thet­ic public—to make it clear beyond any doubt who was the aggres­sor. And the vio­lence and repres­sion direct­ed at the boy­cotters was sig­nif­i­cant. They were attacked while walk­ing to work; King’s and civ­il rights leader E.D. Nixon’s hous­es were both fire­bombed; and King, Parks, and 87 oth­ers were indict­ed for their par­tic­i­pa­tion in the boy­cott.

Nor did the boycott’s suc­cess in 1956 put an end to the attacks. As a site com­mem­o­rat­ing this his­to­ry sum­ma­rizes, “After the boy­cott came to a close, snipers shot into bus­es in black com­mu­ni­ties, at one point hit­ting a young black woman, Rosa Jor­dan, in the legs.” And on one sin­gle night in 1957, “four black church­es and two homes were bombed.” These acts were on the extreme end of a dai­ly series of aggres­sive con­fronta­tions and humil­i­a­tions black rid­ers faced as they board­ed the new­ly-inte­grat­ed Mont­gomery bus­es. To help those rid­ers nav­i­gate this envi­ron­ment, King pre­pared the list of guide­lines above on the week before the bus­es inte­grat­ed. You can read a full tran­script of the list below, thanks to Lists of Note, who include it in their recent book-length col­lec­tion.

King makes his agen­da clear in the intro­duc­to­ry para­graph: “If there is vio­lence in word or deed it must not be our peo­ple who com­mit it.” Some of these direc­tives encour­age great pas­siv­i­ty in the face of often extreme hos­til­i­ty. It is very dif­fi­cult for me to imag­ine respond­ing in such ways to insults or phys­i­cal attacks. And yet, the boy­cotters had already dai­ly, and calm­ly, faced death and severe injury. As white Luther­an min­is­ter Robert Graetz—whose home was also bombed—remembered lat­er, “Dr. King used to talk about the real­i­ty that some of us were going to die and that if any of us were afraid to die we real­ly shouldn’t be there.”

 

INTEGRATED BUS SUGGESTIONS

 

This is a his­toric week because seg­re­ga­tion on bus­es has now been declared uncon­sti­tu­tion­al. With­in a few days the Supreme Court Man­date will reach Mont­gomery and you will be re-board­ing inte­grat­ed bus­es. This places upon us all a tremen­dous respon­si­bil­i­ty of main­tain­ing, in face of what could be some unpleas­ant­ness, a calm and lov­ing dig­ni­ty befit­ting good cit­i­zens and mem­bers of our Race. If there is vio­lence in word or deed it must not be our peo­ple who com­mit it.

For your help and con­ve­nience the fol­low­ing sug­ges­tions are made. Will you read, study and mem­o­rize them so that our non-vio­lent deter­mi­na­tion may not be endan­gered. First, some gen­er­al sug­ges­tions:

1 Not all white peo­ple are opposed to inte­grat­ed bus­es. Accept good­will on the part of many.

2 The whole bus is now for the use of all Take a vacant seat.

3 Pray for guid­ance and com­mit your­self to com­plete non-vio­lence in word and action as you enter the bus.

4 Demon­strate the calm dig­ni­ty of our Mont­gomery peo­ple in your actions.

5 In all things observe ordi­nary rules of cour­tesy and good behav­ior.

6 Remem­ber that this is not a vic­to­ry for Negroes alone, but for all Mont­gomery and the South. Do not boast! Do not brag!

7 Be qui­et but friend­ly; proud, but not arro­gant; joy­ous, but not bois­ter­ous.

8 Be lov­ing enough to absorb evil and under­stand­ing enough to turn an ene­my into a friend.

Now for some spe­cif­ic sug­ges­tions:

1 The bus dri­ver is in charge of the bus and has been instruct­ed to obey the law. Assume that he will coop­er­ate in help­ing you occu­py any vacant seat.

2 Do not delib­er­ate­ly sit by a white per­son, unless there is no oth­er seat.

3 In sit­ting down by a per­son, white or col­ored, say “May I” or “Par­don me” as you sit. This is a com­mon cour­tesy.

4 If cursed, do not curse back. If pushed, do not push back. If struck, do not strike back, but evi­dence love and good­will at all times.

5 In case of an inci­dent, talk as lit­tle as pos­si­ble, and always in a qui­et tone. Do not get up from your seat! Report all seri­ous inci­dents to the bus dri­ver.

6 For the first few days try to get on the bus with a friend in whose non-vio­lence you have con­fi­dence. You can uphold one anoth­er by a glance or a prayer.

7 If anoth­er per­son is being molest­ed, do not arise to go to his defense, but pray for the oppres­sor and use moral and spir­i­tu­al force to car­ry on the strug­gle for jus­tice.

8 Accord­ing to your own abil­i­ty and per­son­al­i­ty, do not be afraid to exper­i­ment with new and cre­ative tech­niques for achiev­ing rec­on­cil­i­a­tion and social change.

If you feel you can­not take it, walk for anoth­er week or two. We have con­fi­dence in our peo­ple. GOD BLESS YOU ALL.

via Lists of Note

Relat­ed Con­tent:

‘Tired of Giv­ing In’: The Arrest Report, Mug Shot and Fin­ger­prints of Rosa Parks (Decem­ber 1, 1955)

Read Mar­tin Luther King and The Mont­gomery Sto­ry: The Influ­en­tial 1957 Civ­il Rights Com­ic Book

‘You Are Done’: The Chill­ing “Sui­cide Let­ter” Sent to Mar­tin Luther King by the F.B.I.

200,000 Mar­tin Luther King Papers Go Online

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Striking Poster Collection from the Great Depression Shows That the US Government Once Supported the Arts in America

WPA Caesare & Cleopatra

Of the rare and extra­or­di­nary times in U.S. his­to­ry when the U.S. gov­ern­ment active­ly fund­ed and pro­mot­ed the arts on a nation­al scale, two peri­ods in par­tic­u­lar stand out. There is the CIA’s role in chan­nel­ing funds to avant-garde artists after the Sec­ond World War as part of the cul­tur­al front of the Cold War—a boon to painters, writ­ers, and musi­cians, both wit­ting and unwit­ting, and a strange way in which the intel­li­gence com­mu­ni­ty used the anti-com­mu­nist left to head off what it saw as more dan­ger­ous and sub­ver­sive trends. Most of the high­ly agen­da-dri­ven fed­er­al arts fund­ing dur­ing the Cold War pro­ceed­ed in secret until decades lat­er, when long-sealed doc­u­ments were declas­si­fied and agents began to tell their sto­ries of the peri­od.

BOOK TALKS

Of a much less covert­ly polit­i­cal nature was the first major fed­er­al invest­ment in the arts, begun under Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal and cham­pi­oned in large part by his wife, Eleanor. Under the 1935-estab­lished Works Progress Admin­is­tra­tion (WPA)—which cre­at­ed thou­sands of jobs through large-scale pub­lic infra­struc­ture projects—the Fed­er­al Project Num­ber One took shape, an ini­tia­tive, write Don Adams and Arlene Gold­bard, that “marked the U.S. government’s first big, direct invest­ment in cul­tur­al devel­op­ment.” The project’s goals “were clear­ly stat­ed and demo­c­ra­t­ic; they sup­port­ed activ­i­ties not already sub­si­dized by pri­vate sec­tor patrons… and they empha­sized the inter­re­lat­ed­ness of cul­ture with all aspects of life, not the sep­a­rate­ness of a rar­efied art world.”

Big Tent Theatre

Under the pro­gram, known sim­ply as “Fed­er­al One,” Orson Welles made his direc­to­r­i­al debut, with a huge­ly pop­u­lar, all-Black pro­duc­tion of Mac­beth; Walk­er Evans, Dorothea Lange, and oth­ers doc­u­ment­ed the Great Depres­sion in their now icon­ic pho­to­graph­ic series; Diego Rivera paint­ed his huge murals of work­ing peo­ple; folk­lorists Alan Lomax, Stet­son Kennedy, and Har­ry Smith col­lect­ed and record­ed the pop­u­lar music and sto­ries of South; Zora Neale Hurston con­duct­ed anthro­po­log­i­cal field research in the Deep South and the Caribbean; Amer­i­can writ­ers from Ralph Elli­son to James Agee found sup­port from the WPA. This is to name but a few of the most famous artists sub­si­dized by the New Deal.

Sioux City Public Art School

Thou­sands more whose names have gone unrecord­ed were able to fund com­mu­ni­ty the­ater pro­duc­tions, lit­er­ary lec­tures, art class­es and many oth­er works of cul­tur­al enrich­ment that kept peo­ple in the arts work­ing, engaged whole com­mu­ni­ties, and gave ordi­nary Amer­i­cans oppor­tu­ni­ties to par­tic­i­pate in the arts and to find rep­re­sen­ta­tion where they oth­er­wise would be over­looked or ignored. Fed­er­al One not only “put legions of unem­ployed artists back to work,” writes George Wash­ing­ton Uni­ver­si­ty’s Eleanor Roo­sevelt Papers Project, “but their cre­ations would invari­ably enter­tain and enrich the larg­er pop­u­la­tion.”

modern dance

“If FDR was only luke­warm about Fed­er­al One,” GWU points out, “his wife more than made up for it with her enthu­si­asm. Eleanor Roo­sevelt felt strong­ly that Amer­i­can soci­ety had not done enough to sup­port the arts, and she viewed Fed­er­al One as a pow­er­ful tool with which to infuse art and cul­ture into the dai­ly lives of Amer­i­cans.”

macbeth wpa

Now, thanks to the Library of Con­gress, we can see what that infu­sion of cul­ture looked like in col­or­ful poster form. Of the 2,000 WPA arts posters known to exist, the LoC has dig­i­tized over 900 pro­duced between 1936 and 1943, “designed to pub­li­cize exhibits, com­mu­ni­ty activ­i­ties, the­atri­cal pro­duc­tions, and health and edu­ca­tion al pro­grams in sev­en­teen states and the Dis­trict of Colum­bia.”

Big White Fog

These posters, added to the Library’s hold­ings in the ‘40s, show us a nation that looked very dif­fer­ent from the one we live in today—one in which the arts and cul­ture thrived at a local and region­al lev­el and were not sim­ply the pre­serves of celebri­ties, pri­vate wealth, and major cor­po­ra­tions. Per­haps revis­it­ing this past can give us a mod­el to strive for in a more demo­c­ra­t­ic, equi­table future that val­ues the arts as Eleanor Roo­sevelt and the WPA admin­is­tra­tors did. Click here to browse the com­plete col­lec­tion of WPA arts posters and to down­load dig­i­tal images as JPEG or TIFF files.

Art_classes_for_children_LCCN98510141

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load Vin­tage Film Posters in High-Res: From The Philadel­phia Sto­ry to Attack of the Crab Mon­sters

Yale Launch­es an Archive of 170,000 Pho­tographs Doc­u­ment­ing the Great Depres­sion

Young Orson Welles Directs “Voodoo Mac­beth,” the First Shake­speare Pro­duc­tion With An All-Black Cast: Footage from 1936

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Take a Virtual Tour of Machu Picchu, One of the New 7 Wonders of the World

Image by Draceane, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Briefly not­ed: Google will now let you pay a vir­tu­al vis­it to one of my favorite places on the plan­et — Machu Pic­chu, the great Inca ruins locat­ed in the Andes in Peru. There’s noth­ing like vis­it­ing Machu Pic­chu in per­son. But if you can’t get there, you can do worse than take this tour.

Take a train ride through the Andes, to this his­toric site. And once you’re there, vis­it the His­toric Sanc­tu­ary of Machu Pic­chu, includ­ing The Tem­ple of the Three Win­dows, the Tem­ple of the Sun, the Astro­nom­i­cal Obser­va­to­ry, and the Sacred Rock, among oth­ers parts of this UNESCO World Her­itage Site. You can also explore more Inca arti­facts over at the Museo Machupic­chu at Casa Con­cha, which holds the largest col­lec­tion of such arti­facts in the world. Hap­py trav­els.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take a 360° Vir­tu­al Tour of Tal­iesin, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Per­son­al Home & Stu­dio

Rome Reborn: Take a Vir­tu­al Tour Through Ancient Rome, 320 C.E.

Take a 3D Vir­tu­al Tour of the Sis­tine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca and Oth­er Art-Adorned Vat­i­can Spaces

Prize-Win­ning Ani­ma­tion Lets You Fly Through 17th Cen­tu­ry Lon­don

 

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Vintage Footage Shows a Young, Unknown Patti Smith & Robert Mapplethorpe Living at the Famed Chelsea Hotel (1970)

Here at Open Cul­ture, we can’t get enough of the Chelsea Hotel, which means we can’t get enough of the Chelsea Hotel in a cer­tain era, at the height of a cer­tain cul­tur­al moment in New York his­to­ry. Though it strug­gled as a busi­ness for years after it first opened as an apart­ment build­ing in 1884 and changed hands left and right until the 1970s, it hit its stride as an icon when a cer­tain crit­i­cal mass of well-known (or soon to be well known) musi­cians, writ­ers, artists, film­mak­ers, and oth­er­wise col­or­ful per­son­al­i­ties had put in time there. One such musi­cian, writer, artist in oth­er media, and col­or­ful per­son­al­i­ty indeed has an espe­cial­ly strong asso­ci­a­tion with the Chelsea: Pat­ti Smith.

You may remem­ber our post back in 2012 fea­tur­ing Smith read­ing her final let­ter to Robert Map­plethor­pe, which she includ­ed in Just Kids, her acclaimed mem­oir of her friend­ship with the con­tro­ver­sial pho­tog­ra­ph­er.

For a time, Smith and Map­plethor­pe lived in the Chelsea togeth­er, and in the footage above, shot in 1970 by a Ger­man doc­u­men­tary film crew, you can see them there in their nat­ur­al habi­tat. “The Chelsea was like a doll’s house in The Twi­light Zone, with a hun­dred rooms, each a small uni­verse,” Smith writes in Just Kids. “Every­one had some­thing to offer and nobody seemed to have much mon­ey. Even the suc­cess­ful seemed to have just enough to live like extrav­a­gant bums.”

These fif­teen min­utes of film also includes glimpses into a vari­ety of oth­er lives lived at the Chelsea as the 1970s began. If you’d like to see more of the place at its cul­tur­al zenith — made pos­si­ble by the state of 70s New York itself, which had infa­mous­ly hit some­thing of a nadir — have a look at the clip we fea­tured in 2013 of the Vel­vet Under­ground’s Nico singing “Chelsea Girls” there. Just after the 70s had gone, BBC’s Are­na turned up to shoot a doc­u­men­tary of their own, which we fea­tured last year. Smith has long since left the Chelsea, and Map­plethor­pe has long since left this world, but even now, as the hotel under­goes exten­sive ren­o­va­tions that began in 2011, some of those “extrav­a­gant bums” remain.

via Please Kill Me

Relat­ed Con­tent:

New York’s Famous Chelsea Hotel and Its Cre­ative Res­i­dents Revis­it­ed in a 1981 Doc­u­men­tary

Nico Sings “Chelsea Girls” in the Famous Chelsea Hotel

Iggy Pop Con­ducts a Tour of New York’s Low­er East Side, Cir­ca 1993

Pat­ti Smith Reads Her Final Words to Her Dear Friend Robert Map­plethor­pe

The Life and Con­tro­ver­sial Work of Pho­tog­ra­ph­er Robert Map­plethor­pe Pro­filed in 1988 Doc­u­men­tary

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, and the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Mark Twain’s Patented Inventions for Bra Straps and Other Everyday Items

Twain Brastrap

Much has been made of Mark Twain’s finan­cial problems—the impru­dent invest­ments and poor man­age­ment skills that forced him to shut­ter his large Hart­ford estate and move his fam­i­ly to Europe in 1891. An ear­ly adopter of the type­writer and long an enthu­si­ast of new sci­ence and tech­nol­o­gy, Twain lost the bulk of his for­tune by invest­ing huge sums—roughly eight mil­lion dol­lars total in today’s money—on a type­set­ting machine, buy­ing the rights to the appa­ra­tus out­right in 1889. The ven­ture bank­rupt­ed him. The machine was over­com­pli­cat­ed and fre­quent­ly broke down, and “before it could be made to work con­sis­tent­ly,” writes the Uni­ver­si­ty of Virginia’s Mark Twain library, “the Lino­type machine swept the mar­ket [Twain] had hoped to cor­ner.”

Twain’s seem­ing­ly blind enthu­si­asm for the ill-fat­ed machine makes him seem like a bun­gler in prac­ti­cal mat­ters. But that impres­sion should be tem­pered by the acknowl­edge­ment that Twain was not only an enthu­si­ast of tech­nol­o­gy, but also a can­ny inven­tor who patent­ed a few tech­nolo­gies, one of which is still high­ly in use today and, indeed, shows no signs of going any­where. I refer to the ubiq­ui­tous elas­tic hook clasp at the back of near­ly every bra, an inven­tion Twain patent­ed in 1871 under his giv­en name Samuel L. Clemens. (View the orig­i­nal patent here.) You can see the dia­gram for his inven­tion above. Call­ing it an “Improve­ment in Adjustable and Detach­able Straps for Gar­ments,” Twain made no men­tion of ladies’ under­gar­ments in his patent appli­ca­tion, refer­ring instead to “the vest, pan­taloons, or oth­er gar­ment upon which my strap is to be used.”

Twain Scrapbook

The device, writes the US Patent and Trade­mark Office, “was not only used for shirts, but under­pants and women’s corsets as well. His pur­pose was to do away with sus­penders, which he con­sid­ered uncom­fort­able.” (At the time, belts served a most­ly dec­o­ra­tive func­tion.) Twain’s inven­tions tend­ed to solve prob­lems he encoun­tered in his dai­ly life, and his next patent was for a hob­by­ist set of which he him­self was a mem­ber. After the soon-to-be bra strap, Twain devised a method of improve­ment in scrap­book­ing, an avid pur­suit of his, in 1873.

Pre­vi­ous­ly, scrap­books were assem­bled by hand-glu­ing each item, which Twain seemed to con­sid­er an over­ly labo­ri­ous and messy process. His inven­tion—writes The Atlantic in part of a series they call “Patents of the Rich and Famous”—involved “two pos­si­ble self-adhe­sive sys­tems,” sim­i­lar to self-seal­ing envelopes, in which, as his patent states, “the sur­faces of the leaves where­of are coat­ed with a suit­able adhe­sive sub­stance cov­er­ing the whole or parts of the entire sur­face.” (See the less-than-clear dia­gram for the inven­tion above.) The scrap­book­ing device proved “very pop­u­lar,” writes the US Patent Office, “and sold over 25,000 copies.”

twain-game

Twain obtained his final patent in 1885 for a “Game Appa­ra­tus” that he called the “Mem­o­ry-Builder” (see it above). The object of the game was pri­mar­i­ly edu­ca­tion­al, help­ing, as he wrote, to “fill the children’s heads with dates with­out study.” As we report­ed in a pre­vi­ous post, “Twain worked out a way to play it on a crib­bage board con­vert­ed into a his­tor­i­cal time­line.” Unlike his first two inven­tions, the game met with no com­mer­cial suc­cess. “Twain sent a few pro­to­types to toy stores in 1891,” writes Rebec­ca Onion at Slate, “but there wasn’t very much inter­est, so the game nev­er went into pro­duc­tion.” Nonethe­less, we still have Twain to thank, or to damn, for the bra strap, an inven­tion of no small impor­tance.

Twain him­self seems to have had some con­tra­dic­to­ry atti­tudes about his role as an inven­tor, and of the sin­gu­lar recog­ni­tion grant­ed to indi­vid­u­als through patent law. Per­haps unsur­pris­ing­ly, the US Patent Office claims that Twain “believed strong­ly in the val­ue of the patent sys­tem” and cites a pas­sage from A Con­necti­cut Yan­kee in King Arthur’s Court in sup­port. But in a let­ter Twain wrote to Helen Keller in 1903, he expressed a very dif­fer­ent view. “It takes a thou­sand men to invent a tele­graph, or a steam engine, or a phono­graph, or a tele­phone or any oth­er impor­tant thing,” Twain wrote, “and the last man gets the cred­it and we for­get the oth­ers. He added his lit­tle mite—that is all he did. These object lessons should teach us that nine­ty-nine parts of all things that pro­ceed from the intel­lect are pla­gia­risms, pure and sim­ple.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mark Twain Wrote the First Book Ever Writ­ten With a Type­writer

Play Mark Twain’s “Mem­o­ry-Builder,” His Game for Remem­ber­ing His­tor­i­cal Facts & Dates

Mark Twain & Helen Keller’s Spe­cial Friend­ship: He Treat­ed Me Not as a Freak, But as a Per­son Deal­ing with Great Dif­fi­cul­ties

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Great Depression Cooking: Get Budget-Minded Meals from the Online Cooking Show Created by 93-Year-Old Clara Cannucciari

“The Depres­sion was not fun,” the late YouTube star, Clara Can­nuc­cia­ri, states in the very first episode of her Great Depres­sion Cook­ing web series, above. Her first recipe—Pasta with Peas—would like­ly give your aver­age urbane food­ie hives, as would her knife skills, but Clara, who start­ed mak­ing these videos when she was 93, takes obvi­ous sat­is­fac­tion in the out­come.

Her film­mak­er grand­son Christo­pher Can­nuc­cia­ri wise­ly kept Clara in her own kitchen, rather than relo­cat­ing her to a more san­i­tized kitchen set. Her plas­tic paper tow­el hold­er, linoleum lined cab­i­nets, and teapot-shaped spoon rest kept things real for sev­er­al years worth of step-by-step, low bud­get, most­ly veg­e­tar­i­an recipes.

Her fruit-and-ging­ham ceram­ic salt and pep­per shak­ers remained con­sis­tent through­out.

How many tele­vi­sion chefs can you name who would allow the cam­era crew to film the stained tin­foil lin­ing the bot­tom of their ovens?

Nona­ge­nar­i­an Clara appar­ent­ly had noth­ing to hide. Each episode includes a cou­ple of anec­dotes about life dur­ing the Great Depres­sion, the peri­od in which she learned to cook from her thrifty Ital­ian moth­er.

She ini­tial­ly dis­liked being filmed, agree­ing to the first episode only because that was grand­son Christopher’s price for shoot­ing a pre-need funer­al por­trait she desired. She turned out to be a nat­ur­al. Her celebri­ty even­tu­al­ly led to a cook­book (Clara’s Kitchen: Wis­dom, Mem­o­ries, and Recipes from the Great Depres­sion), as well as a video where­in she answered view­er ques­tions with char­ac­ter­is­tic frank­ness.

To what did she attribute her youth­ful appear­ance?

Clean liv­ing and large quan­ti­ties of olive oil (poured from a ves­sel the size and shape of a cof­fee pot).

How to avoid anoth­er Great Depres­sion?

“At my age, I don’t real­ly care,” Clara admit­ted, “But for the younger gen­er­a­tion it’s bad.” In the worst case sce­nario, she coun­sels stick­ing togeth­er, and not wish­ing for too much. The Depres­sion, as we’ve men­tioned, was not fun, but she got through it, and so, she implies, would you.

The series can be enjoyed on the strength of Clara’s per­son­al­i­ty alone, but Great Depres­sion Cook­ing has a lot to offer col­lege stu­dents, undis­cov­ered artists, and oth­er fledg­ling chefs.

Her recipes may not be pro­fes­sion­al­ly styled, but they’re sim­ple, nutri­tious, and unde­ni­ably cheap (espe­cial­ly Dan­de­lion Sal­ad).

Home­made Piz­za—Clara’s favorite—is the antithe­sis of a 99¢ slice.

The tight belts of the Great Depres­sion did not pre­clude the occa­sion­al treat like hol­i­day bis­cot­ti or Ital­ian Ice.

Those on a lean Thanks­giv­ing bud­get might con­sid­er mak­ing Clara’s Poor Man’s Feast: lentils and rice, thin­ly sliced fried steak, plain sal­ad and bread.

Right up until her final, touch­ing appear­ance below at the age of 96, her hands were nim­ble enough to shell almonds, pur­chased that way to save mon­ey, though crack­ing also put her in a hol­i­day mood. Food­ies who shud­der at Pas­ta with Peas should find no fault with her whole­some recipe for her mother’s home­made toma­to sauce (and by exten­sion, paste).

You can watch all of Clara’s video’s on the Great Depres­sion Cook­ing chan­nel. Or find Sea­sons 1 and 2 below.

Sea­son 1:

Sea­son 2:

Sea­son 3:

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The New York Times Makes 17,000 Tasty Recipes Avail­able Online: Japan­ese, Ital­ian, Thai & Much More

Sci­ence & Cook­ing: Harvard’s Free Course on Mak­ing Cakes, Pael­la & Oth­er Deli­cious Food

MIT Teach­es You How to Speak Ital­ian & Cook Ital­ian Food All at Once (Free Online Course)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. She recent­ly co-authored a com­ic about epilep­sy with her 18-year-old daugh­ter. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

An Interactive Timeline Covering 14 Billion Years of History: From The Big Bang to 2015

For his final project in Beza­lel Acad­e­my of Arts and Design in Jerusalem, Matan Stauber cre­at­ed His­tog­ra­phy, an inter­ac­tive time­line that cov­ers 14 bil­lion years of his­to­ry. The time­line, writes Stauber, “draws his­tor­i­cal events from Wikipedia, and it self-updates dai­ly with new record­ed events.” And the inter­face lets users see his­to­ry in small­er chunks (decades at a time) or big­ger ones (mil­lions of years at a time). To get a vague feel for how His­tog­ra­phy works, you can watch the video above. But real­ly the best way to expe­ri­ence things is to dive right in here.

Fol­low Open Cul­ture on Face­book and Twit­ter and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. Or bet­ter yet, sign up for our dai­ly email and get a dai­ly dose of Open Cul­ture in your inbox. And if you want to make sure that our posts def­i­nite­ly appear in your Face­book news­feed, just fol­low these sim­ple steps.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

6,000 Years of His­to­ry Visu­al­ized in a 23-Foot-Long Time­line of World His­to­ry, Cre­at­ed in 1871

An Inter­ac­tive Map of Odysseus’ 10-Year Jour­ney in Homer’s Odyssey

The His­to­ry of Mod­ern Art Visu­al­ized in a Mas­sive 130-Foot Time­line

Big His­to­ry: David Chris­t­ian Cov­ers 13.7 Bil­lion Years of His­to­ry in 18 Min­utes

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

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Freed Slave Writes Letter to Former Master: You Owe Us $11,680 for 52 Years of Unpaid Labor (1865)

Jordan_Anderson_Image

No mat­ter how long I live, the dehu­man­iz­ing insan­i­ty of racism will nev­er fail to aston­ish and amaze me. Not only does it vis­it great phys­i­cal and psy­cho­log­i­cal vio­lence upon its vic­tims, but it leaves those who embrace it unable to feel or rea­son prop­er­ly. Con­tem­po­rary exam­ples abound in excess, but many of the most egre­gious come from the peri­od in U.S. his­to­ry when an entire class of peo­ple was deemed prop­er­ty, and allowed to be treat­ed any way their own­ers liked. In such a sit­u­a­tion, odd­ly, many slave mas­ters thought of them­selves as humane and benev­o­lent, and thought their slaves well-treat­ed, though they would nev­er have trad­ed places with them for any­thing.

One such exam­ple of this bewil­der­ing log­ic comes from a let­ter written—or dic­tat­ed, rather—by a man named Jor­dan Ander­son (or some­times Jour­dan Ander­son), pic­tured above: a man enslaved to one Colonel Patrick Hen­ry Ander­son in Big Spring, Ten­nessee. When he was freed from sub­jec­tion in 1864, Jor­dan moved to Ohio, found work—was paid for it—and set­tled down for the next 40 years to raise his chil­dren with his wife Aman­da. As Allen G. Breed and Hil­lel Ital­ie write, “he lived qui­et­ly and would like­ly have been for­got­ten, if not for a remark­able let­ter to his for­mer mas­ter pub­lished in a Cincin­nati news­pa­per short­ly after the Civ­il War.”

As did many for­mer slave own­ers, Colonel Ander­son found that he could not keep up his hold­ings after los­ing his cap­tive labor force. Des­per­ate to save his prop­er­ty, he had the temer­i­ty to write to Jor­dan and ask him to return and help bring in the har­vest. We do not, it seems, have the Colonel’s let­ter, but we can sur­mise from Jordan’s response what it contained—promises, as the for­mer slave writes, “to do bet­ter for me than any­body else can.” We can also sur­mise, giv­en Jordan’s sar­don­ic ref­er­ences, that the for­mer mas­ter may have shot at him—and that some­one named “Hen­ry” intend­ed to shoot him still. We can sur­mise that the Colonel’s sons may have raped Jordan’s daugh­ters, Matil­da and Cather­ine, giv­en the har­row­ing descrip­tion of them “brought to shame by the vio­lence and wicked­ness of their young mas­ters.”

And, of course, we know for cer­tain that Jor­dan received no rec­om­pense for his many years of hard work: “there was nev­er any pay-day for the negroes,” he writes, “any more than for the hors­es and cows.” Despite all this—and it is beyond my com­pre­hen­sion why—Colonel Ander­son expect­ed that his for­mer slave would return to help prop up the fail­ing plan­ta­tion. On this score, Jor­dan pro­pos­es a test of the Colonel’s “sin­cer­i­ty.” Tal­ly­ing up all the wages he and his wife were owed for their com­bined 52 years of work, less “what you paid for our cloth­ing” and doctor’s vis­its, he presents his for­mer own­er with a bill for “eleven thou­sand six hun­dred and eighty dol­lars” and an address to which he can mail the pay­ment. “If you fail to pay us for faith­ful labors in the past, we can have lit­tle faith in your promis­es in the future,” he writes. You can read the full letter—which appeared at Let­ters of Note—below.

Day­ton, Ohio,

August 7, 1865

To My Old Mas­ter, Colonel P.H. Ander­son, Big Spring, Ten­nessee

Sir: I got your let­ter, and was glad to find that you had not for­got­ten Jour­don, and that you want­ed me to come back and live with you again, promis­ing to do bet­ter for me than any­body else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yan­kees would have hung you long before this, for har­bor­ing Rebs they found at your house. I sup­pose they nev­er heard about your going to Colonel Mar­t­in’s to kill the Union sol­dier that was left by his com­pa­ny in their sta­ble. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still liv­ing. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the bet­ter world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was work­ing in the Nashville Hos­pi­tal, but one of the neigh­bors told me that Hen­ry intend­ed to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know par­tic­u­lar­ly what the good chance is you pro­pose to give me. I am doing tol­er­a­bly well here. I get twen­ty-five dol­lars a month, with vict­uals and cloth­ing; have a com­fort­able home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learn­ing well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preach­er. They go to Sun­day school, and Mandy and me attend church reg­u­lar­ly. We are kind­ly treat­ed. Some­times we over­hear oth­ers say­ing, “Them col­ored peo­ple were slaves” down in Ten­nessee. The chil­dren feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no dis­grace in Ten­nessee to belong to Colonel Ander­son. Many dark­eys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you mas­ter. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be bet­ter able to decide whether it would be to my advan­tage to move back again.

As to my free­dom, which you say I can have, there is noth­ing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Mar­shal-Gen­er­al of the Depart­ment of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back with­out some proof that you were dis­posed to treat us just­ly and kind­ly; and we have con­clud­ed to test your sin­cer­i­ty by ask­ing you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us for­get and for­give old scores, and rely on your jus­tice and friend­ship in the future. I served you faith­ful­ly for thir­ty-two years, and Mandy twen­ty years. At twen­ty-five dol­lars a month for me, and two dol­lars a week for Mandy, our earn­ings would amount to eleven thou­sand six hun­dred and eighty dol­lars. Add to this the inter­est for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our cloth­ing, and three doc­tor’s vis­its to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the bal­ance will show what we are in jus­tice enti­tled to. Please send the mon­ey by Adams’s Express, in care of V. Win­ters, Esq., Day­ton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faith­ful labors in the past, we can have lit­tle faith in your promis­es in the future. We trust the good Mak­er has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in mak­ing us toil for you for gen­er­a­tions with­out rec­om­pense. Here I draw my wages every Sat­ur­day night; but in Ten­nessee there was nev­er any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the hors­es and cows. Sure­ly there will be a day of reck­on­ing for those who defraud the labor­er of his hire.

In answer­ing this let­ter, please state if there would be any safe­ty for my Mil­ly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-look­ing girls. You know how it was with poor Matil­da and Cather­ine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the vio­lence and wicked­ness of their young mas­ters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the col­ored chil­dren in your neigh­bor­hood. The great desire of my life now is to give my chil­dren an edu­ca­tion, and have them form vir­tu­ous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for tak­ing the pis­tol from you when you were shoot­ing at me.

From your old ser­vant,

Jour­don Ander­son.

Sev­er­al his­to­ri­ans have researched the authen­tic­i­ty of Jordan’s dic­tat­ed let­ter and the his­tor­i­cal details of his life in Ten­nessee and Ohio. As Kot­tke report­ed, a man named David Gal­braith found infor­ma­tion about Jordan’s life after the letter’s pub­li­ca­tion, includ­ing ref­er­ences to him and his wife and fam­i­ly in the 1900 Ohio cen­sus. Kot­tke pro­vides many addi­tion­al details about Jordan’s post-slav­ery life and that of his many chil­dren and grand­chil­dren, and the Dai­ly Mail has pho­tographs of the for­mer Ander­son plan­ta­tion and Jor­dan Anderson’s mod­ern-day descen­dants. They also quote his­to­ri­an Ray­mond Win­bush, who tracked down some of the Colonel’s descen­dants still liv­ing in Big Spring.

Colonel Ander­son, it seems, was forced to sell the land after his plea to Jor­dan failed, and he died not long after at age 44. (Jor­dan Ander­son died in 1907 at age 81.) “What’s amaz­ing,” says Win­bush, “is that the cur­rent liv­ing rel­a­tives of Colonel Ander­son are still angry at Jor­dan for not com­ing back.” Yet anoth­er exam­ple of how the ignominy of the past, no mat­ter how much we’d pre­fer to for­get it, nev­er seems very far behind us at all.

via Let­ters of Note

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1.5 Mil­lion Slav­ery Era Doc­u­ments Will Be Dig­i­tized, Help­ing African Amer­i­cans to Learn About Their Lost Ances­tors

Visu­al­iz­ing Slav­ery: The Map Abra­ham Lin­coln Spent Hours Study­ing Dur­ing the Civ­il War

Watch Vet­er­ans of The US Civ­il War Demon­strate the Dread­ed Rebel Yell (1930)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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